


Fairytale of New York

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-27 00:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14413644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: The second CrissColfer Riot of 2018, spanning both London and NYC.





	Fairytale of New York

**Author's Note:**

> Recap of this riot: Darren spends a whole lot of time in London looking fabulously relaxed and Chris is missing in action until they both turn up in NYC for the same event. ;)
> 
> *Title from the most British song about New York ever, by the Pogues.

(11.32 am) **  
**

There’s a heavy thigh thrown across Chris’ own sweatpant clad one- a warm dead-weight through the cotton. He looks over to see Darren grinning up at him, slouched impossibly low in his seat.

 

“Hi.”

 

Chris pretends to heave a long suffering sigh. “I thought you were trying to sleep?”

 

Darren wiggles, burying his shoulders deeper into the plush cushioning. “You know I can’t sleep on planes.”

 

“I’ve never understood that,” says Chris, tugging back his corner of the cabin provided blanket that Darren had progressively been stealing more and more inches of. “I’ve seen you sleep on tour bus floors, Dare, and these are actually  _made_  for sleeping on, unlike them.”

 

“Eh. They’re too fancy. Give me hard carpet and foot rests any day.”

 

Chris decides that mentioning the custom memory foam mattress at home would be useless. It’s also a way to avoid giving Darren a reason to tease him about his already ailing back- what Chris thinks is a result of sitting hunched over his laptop all day.

 

Instead, he tosses his knee over Darren’s and returns his soft smile.

 

Darren reaches over to play with the cuff around Chris’ wrist, resting both of their hands in his blanket-covered lap. “We brought the wheelie bins in before we left, right?” he asks after a moment.

 

“Mm? Oh, yeah.”

 

“Skye says hello, by the way.”

 

“What?” Chris asks, pouting. Skye is the gorgeous golden lab who lives in the apartment next door to them, owned by a couple who had moved in around the same time that they’d bought the place a few years ago. “Why did I not see her?”

 

“You were in the shower. Grace was taking her to their parents house because she was getting too excited about the baby.”

 

“Oh I was too- Alfie is an  _adorable_  name for a baby boy.”

 

Darren grins at him. “Right? And so quintessentially  _British_  as well.”

 

Chris watches him twist the cuff back and forth, the pads of his fingers polishing the smooth silver. Grace and her husband had been newly-weds when they’d moved in. “Time flies, huh?”

 

Darren’s eyes are soft behind his heavy-framed glasses. “It really does.”

 

***

 

(4.17 pm)

 

“I feel  _dead_.”

 

Darren’s voice comes muffled since he’s lying face-first in the bed’s comforter, body splayed out like a starfish. They’ve dumped their suitcases in the living area and Chris is opening all the windows in their New York place, trying to dispel the stale apartment smell.

 

“I’m not the one who insisted on traversing literally all of Reading on foot, love.”

 

“The town’s-  _mff_ \- historic, Chris. Wasn’t gonna miss out an opportunity to explore with you.”

 

Chris lights a stick of incense and lodges it in the window pane, placing a mat underneath to catch the ash. The usual air fresheners give him headaches, and Darren loves the home-y vibes these ones give, with their curling smoke and comforting spice-smell.

 

He sets aside the lighter and kicks off his shoes, crawling onto the bed next to Darren, who turns over to eye him blearily.

 

“I need a nap.”

 

Chris presses a kiss to his nose, and Darren catches the back of his neck, pulling him down so that their lips meet. Chris kisses him once, twice, thrice, and then pulls away, smacking lightly at his shoulder.

 

“Roll over and I’ll give you a back rub.”

 

Darren groans in gratitude. “I fucking  _love_  you.”

 

***

 

(1.08 pm)

 

“Oh my god, Dare. Oh my  _god_.” Chris grabs at Darren’s hand, squeezing hard and looking him dead in the eye. “Look, darling, watching the Cursed Child for the first time in the West End with you was obviously fucking amazing, but you’ll understand if I’m actually hyperventilating right now?”

 

Darren laughs, squeezing right back. “You’ve met J.K. Rowling before, love.”

 

“Yeah, but we’re watching it  _with_  her, Dare.”

 

A voice comes from one of the front seats. “Out in five.”

 

Darren murmurs his assent and then turns back to Chris, smoothing his dark slacks and patting his hair carefully. Chris stills his wandering hands and tucks a stray curl into place.

 

“See you in a while?” he asks, breath hot against Darren’s lips.

 

Darren closes the distance, pressing a firm kiss there. “I’ll be right there to hold you back.”

 

“Knew I could count on you,” Chris laughs. He straightens Darren’s tie even though it doesn’t really need straightening and pushes at his shoulder gently. “Now go.”

 

He watches Darren hop out, and blow a kiss when he knows no one can see. 


End file.
